


A Fitting Place

by TheUnicornFountain



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Angst, Gen, One Shot, blood and dead horses so, some malink if you squint, war related violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 04:05:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4549722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUnicornFountain/pseuds/TheUnicornFountain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Link tries to find a place after his return from Termina, but that's hard to do when his own body doesn't reflect who he is inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fitting Place

**Author's Note:**

> I've been in a funk these past few weeks and wanted to write some angsty Hero of Time stuff to work out my problems. Enjoy!

# A Fitting Place

_Shouldn’t you be returning home as well?_

Home. As if he had ever had one to call his own, truly. 

Link stared at the dead stump amongst leaf-filtered sunlight and meandering spirits. Behind him, Epona snorted out pollen and lowered her head to graze. She was only a colt; he was only a child. It still bewildered him even after two heroic quests. He had been an adult, once, if for a brief time. He had done what needed to get done, and Princess Zelda had sent him back to relive his childhood the way it was meant to be lived.

A wry smile twisted Link’s lips. It hadn’t been a reward; it had been torture. Did she honestly expect him to return to his childhood after all he had seen and experienced? After holding the power of a Goron hero in his adult hands? After wielding the sword of evil’s bane to put an end to Ganon? Seeing the terrible truth behind the Shadow Temple, and the extent Ganondorf’s followers would go to succeed? 

He had lied to her. He hadn’t gone off to search for Navi; not entirely. He had sought a way to regain the feeling of _capability._ And he had found that feeling in Termina, but again it was through borrowed forms. In the end, he was a child once more. A grown hero was trapped within his young body, and the skin was drawn tight.

Link returned his focus to the tree stump. He held a small knife in his hands. He was considering carving only minutes ago to commemorate the friends he had made in Termina. But that was a childish thought. He pocketed the knife, mounted up, and rode the lonely paths through the Lost Woods.

#

He tried. The Goddesses or Hylia or whoever had set him on this twisted path could give him that much credit. He returned to the Kokiri first; to Saria. She was a Sage, and thus knew what had happened in the past-future. He tried to make a home there once more in his simple treehouse with Saria’s support, and it worked for a year or so. 

But Goddesses, he was restless. His dreams tormented him with reminders of his successes as an adult. Even Majora had been taken down with the body of a grown god. What were his childhood victories compared to that?

When he wasn’t twisting and turning in sleep, he was pacing through the forest and thicker wood in search of… He didn’t know. That absence of direction didn’t dampen his need to search. He plunged recklessly into the Lost Woods where not even Epona dared to follow. He forgot to keep the woods in mind, and got lost more than once. Saria always found him again and led him back. Her hand was as big as his, and it closed around his fingers in a warm grip. 

One day he noticed her hand had grown a little smaller. No, it was him who was growing bigger. A warm spot of happiness flared within Link’s heart. He had been convinced he would never grow up. That warmth faded away when Saria turned sad eyes upon him.

“The Kokiri never grow up,” she said. “But you’re growing up, Link. You can’t stay any longer.”

No. No, he was still a child. He was still trapped in this too-small body with too many memories in his too-small head to possibly keep track of them all. He couldn’t leave. He _wouldn’t_ leave.

But Link’s will was nothing against the Great Deku Tree’s might. He went to bed that night with a head full of conflicting emotions. He closed his eyes in a troubled sleep and opened them onto the sun rising over Hyrule Field. Ice water extinguished the flame in his heart. He gained his feet, pushed past Epona, and plunged into the woods a mere ten feet away. But the paths were closed to him. The trees didn’t part for him, and the shadows led him back to the field.

During the year Link was away, he had turned twelve. Now he was thirteen and without a home once more. It was the same wherever he went. Elder Darunia and his fellow Gorons welcomed him, but their diet was unwelcoming, and Link’s title as Sworn Brother meant little in this new future. He spent another year with them, making a monthly trip to Kakariko Village for food and supplies, and risking his neck on the mountain path each time. And despite his year spent there, Link never regained the feeling that he belonged.

Fourteen years old and gaining height, Link sought out Princess Ruto amongst the Zora. Her fondness for him surpassed those of Darunia’s, but for all the reasons Link cared little about. The damp kingdom sickened Link more than once. He used this to his advantage, falsely extending his illnesses to avoid Ruto. The only thing that kept him from leaving at once was the hope that the serene settings would calm his dreams. They didn’t, and he left after nine months with fifteen years under his belt.

The next two years were spent with Impa and the royal guard. Link took up his training with an enthusiasm unmatched by any of the other cadets. Here, finally, was something to distract him. Here, finally, he found a way to regain that feeling of capability and usefulness. He grew strong under the Sheikah’s guidance, earning many admiring looks--Princess Zelda’s included. But Link kept his distance from the princess. He was afraid he would begin to blame her for what her past-future self had done. He didn’t want to lose control like that. Not when he had finally found a place where he fit. Or so he thought. 

Link woke up one morning to find a state of peace had come over him. He looked at his bare self in a mirror and discovered he had finally reached a point where his body reflected the hero inside--and this time, there was no disjointed sense of a missing seven years. Cheered, Link washed, dressed, and ran outside. He was up earlier than usual, so it was by accident he overheard the soldiers’ conversation.

“Have you heard about him? That kid? They say he’s a hero reborn, or returned, or some other such bullshit.”

Link paused just inside the barrack door and leaned against its frame. The smell of the morning sun, oiled armor, and Hyrulean tobacco mingled in his nose. Laughter met his ears.

“Is that why the Sheikah hag’s so fond of him? Is she expecting him to take her place at Princess Zelda’s side? I don’t think he has what it takes to fill out her role, if you know what I mean.” More laughter. “Where’d he come from anyway?”

“He showed up in a green tunic like he’d crawled out of the forest. I bet a wolfos fucked his mother, and he’s the runt of her mangy litter.”

It was three against one. Link had gone up against much worse odds. Impa arrived in time to stop him from killing the soldiers, but he made sure they wouldn’t forget him anytime soon--if they ever woke up, that was. He tried explaining himself--not that he should have had to--but the captain wouldn’t hear it. The threat of jail or worse hung over Link’s head for a week, so he was the only one who greeted with relief Hyrule’s declaration of war against the Gerudo.

The king had finally acted on his daughter’s warning, backed up years ago by a child bearing the Triforce of Courage. Link smiled at the news that Hyrule would be taking the offensive. Finally there was a distraction; there was action. When the captain announced Link’s punishment would be to fight on the front line, Link accepted it with eagerness.

War was good to him. He had feared at first that he would come across Nabooru, and what then? But he learned a month into the battle that she and a few of her followers had abandoned the leadership of their king, Ganondorf, and thus abandoned the Gerudo lands. Only the rebels remained to fight, and their numbers weren’t enough. 

But you couldn’t have told the Gerudo that. In the first and largest battle, their king led them out of the desert valley and into Hyrule Field to the waiting Hyrulean forces. Their horses left a brown swath of ground behind them to mark their path across the emerald grass. Ganondorf was in the lead on a black stallion. His face was set into a wide grin, and there was hunger in his eyes. A golden light shined from the back of his right hand.

Link was in the lead on his nervous mare. He stared at the glow on the back of Ganondorf’s hand. Some terrible, divine trick was at play here. Link narrowed his eyes and drew his sword along with the rest of the front line. They crashed against the charging Gerudo like the ocean against a rocky shore.

Link fell into the rhythm of battle with hardly a batted eye. The first few minutes were drowned in blood, shouts, and blurs of movement. His blade found flesh more than once before he felt Epona jerk beneath him. The mare went down with a scream, head gushing. Link leapt clear in time to avoid her dead weight crushing his legs, but he lost his sword when he struck the ground. He rolled to his hands and knees and cast his eyes around for it. The blade glinted not far from his left hand.

A heavy foot fell upon Link’s hand when he took hold of the sword’s grip. He grimaced and glared up at the foot’s owner. The blood drained from his face when a pair of yellow eyes looked down at him, framed by red sideburns.

Link had no time to escape. A thick hand fell around his throat, and he was pulled to his feet. He clawed and pulled at the dark fingers, but they only squeezed harder, and Ganondorf laughed.

“What’s this? The Hero of Time reborn?”

His voice carried even over the crowd, and Link noticed a few soldiers flick their eyes towards him in the breaks between blows. Their gazes spoke of scorn and mistrust. After all, the Hero of Time hadn’t prevented this war. He hadn’t saved the soldiers that now lay broken under the Gerudo’s feet. Link took in their anger, and he turned it onto Ganondorf. He kicked, snarled, and swiped at the man’s face as if he was a cat. His blows fell pitifully short, but his fury bridged the distance well enough.

Ganondorf met the fury with a glare. “I remember that look,” he whispered. “I remember those blues as they watched me fall, again and again across the ages.” His glare twisted into a smile. “I’ll rid you of their insolence right now.”

Link felt a thumb move over his right eye, and he understood too late the meaning behind Ganondorf’s words. His high scream drew attention even amidst the dying sounds of the battlers, and they stopped and stared.

Ganondorf dropped Link to the ground, and the Hylian’s hand went to the empty space in his head. The fingers shook and sparked pain in the tortured socket. He whimpered. 

Ganondorf laughed. “So this is the great Hero of Time reborn? He’s nothing more than a child playing war!”

_Child…_

Link pushed himself onto his feet. His halved sight wavered; blurred by tears and fear. Both Gerudian and Hylian warriors stared back. He saw disgust and pity in all of their faces. Their scorn was still there, too. He stared back, lost, and Ganondorf kicked him in the back. He ate dirt once more, and his gaping socket sang with pain from the jolting fall.

“Is this your hero? Is this all you have to oppose me?” Ganondorf’s laughter rang out. “Where are you going, boy? There’s still one eye left!”

Link had gained his feet once more, and now he twisted out from beneath Ganondorf’s reaching hand. Ganondorf laughed again as Link plunged into the still battlers.

“There’s your hero! Not much courage in him this time around! Perhaps he still has some growing up to do!”

People called after Link. He ignored them, and soon enough the shouts turned to yells and screams when the battle resumed. Even those faded away with distance, but Link didn’t stop until he reached a stone wall. There, he stopped and fell to regaining his breath. Exertion put a shake in his arms and legs, and his eye still bled. He needed to have it looked at. If it kept bleeding… If he didn’t shake off this shock…

Link dropped to the ground at the base of the wall. There, he curled up and rubbed the right side of his head against the ground. The blades of grass did nothing for his panging eye socket, but his hot skin appreciated the cool touch of the dirt. He closed his remaining eye with Ganondorf’s insults ringing in his head.

He may have slept, or he may have passed out. Either way, he opened his remaining eye onto a different place. He saw wooden beams crossing a ceiling, and a tall stone fireplace. A comfortable bed was beneath him, and warm blankets enveloped him. Raising a hand to his head, he discovered a bandage taped over his empty eye socket, which didn’t hurt at the moment.

Link sat up and found his armor was stacked at the far end of the room. He had been stripped down to his undergarments, and the few minor cuts he had gained during the battle were bandaged as well. He took another look around the room. The windows showed a gray morning. The door clicked open while he was watching the sun rise.

A red-haired woman around his age walked into the room. She smiled when Link turned his head towards her. “You’re awake. That’s good. Honestly, I wasn’t sure you were going to make it. I mean, I’ve treated horses for bad eyes before, but you had been bleeding for a good while. You were in that battle at the west border, weren’t you? I recognized the uniform. Don’t worry--no one’s come looking for you.”

Her voice was bright, and her eyes were kind. She had a bottle of milk and a bowl of oatmeal on a tray, which she placed in Link’s lap. Link thanked her in a hoarse voice and asked for her name. It was Malon. Of course. Now he remembered. He gave his own in return.

“You were in bad shape,” Malon reiterated. “The Hyrulean forces won the battle, by the way. Ganondorf retreated, and there were a few more skirmishes before he was captured. Yeah.” She had noticed Link’s eye widen. “So that’s the war, I guess. I’ve heard they’re going to execute him. They have him and the surviving Gerudo locked up in some prison. But hey, enough about that. Let me look at you. I want to make sure infection hasn’t set in.”

Link put down his spoon and sat as still as stone. Malon’s fingers delicately pulled back the bandage. She appeared pleased with whatever she saw, for she nodded before replacing the bandage and once more taking her seat by the bed. “Once it’s healed, you can pop a glass eye in there if you want, or just wear a patch. And hey.” She dropped a hand to Link’s arm. “Take all the time you need. In fact, you never have to leave if you want so long as you’re not an idle hand. Ever since our stable hand left a month ago, my father and I have been short on help.”

Link nodded and thanked Malon for the hospitality. She smiled and stood up to press a kiss to his forehead. He liked its warm touch; it was soothing.

“Lunch is at eleven,” Malon said as she walked towards the door. “If you’re feeling up to it, come join us downstairs.”

Link followed Malon up on the invitation. Her father, Talon, welcomed Link like an old friend. The food on offer was simple, but beyond description in taste. There was only one hairy moment when Link was asked to pass the butter. His missing depth perception nearly sent it into Malon’s lap when he released the dish too early. He waited for a reprimand or glare.

But Talon chuckled, and Malon patted Link’s shaking hand as she said, “You’ll get the hang of it.” Lunch resumed as if nothing happened, and Link relaxed into his chair with as much ease and comfort as if it had been specifically made for him.


End file.
